Becoming His Ch. 05

Suddenly one of his hands pressed warm and flat against her abdomen, and she jumped.

"Easy," he said in a low voice. His fingers ran up her side, coaxing a giggle -- or what would have been a giggle -- out of her throat. "Now there's something you have to understand about me, princess. I'm a gentleman, I'm sure you've noticed. And I'm a caring type. I like to take charge of a girl like you and bring her under my wing. But there are other sides of me, too."

Lila swallowed.

"Just listen," he said, and she hung to his every word. What could she do besides lie in the dark and listen? His fingers crept up her rib cage and idly brushed against the underside of her breast. "When I spanked you last week, I didn't do it just because you had been a silly girl who needed correction, nor simply because I wanted to introduce you into a new sexual dimension in a shocking way. I did it because I'm a sadist. Do you know what that means, baby girl?"

Beneath the blindfold, Lila had flicked her eyes upward. But of course he couldn't see her. She tapped her hand once against the headboard above her head, hesitantly.

"I'm not a serial killer kind of sadist. But you probably know that by now. I hope you trust me. I know you trust me, at least in a naive kind of way, because you let me tie you up here." His fingers skated across to her other breast, his thumb running circles around her nipple. "If this is going to work, I need your complete trust. Do you trust me, princess?"

She nodded her head, breathless in the darkness.

"Good. Now, once I'm finished, if you'd like you may tie me down and stuff my mouth full of your panties and pontificate at me." She could tell he was joking. "Would you like to do that?"

She shook her head, her hair dragged side to side against the silken pillowcase.

"Good. I wouldn't like that, either. But I'd let you, if that's what it would take." The pressure of his hand suddenly disappeared, and she heard the clink of his belt buckle and the sound of the leather being pulled through the loops. "Does it scare you to know that I want to hurt you, baby girl?"

She said nothing, but if she had been able to find her voice behind the gag she might have said that it scared her a little bit.

"A yes or a no would suffice, Lila," he said. She felt him drag the edge of his belt up her inner thigh.

She shook her head again.

"That's good. Because it scares me sometimes." She heard his breath hitch. "I have this beautiful little thing in my bed, and half of what I want to do is take my belt to her backside until she's black and blue. Fuck, Lila. A psychologist would have a field day with me."

She wanted to ask him why, what secrets lay behind him, but suddenly she thought that she was likely to learn more if she just lay there and listened. He'd told her to listen, hadn't he? She slipped back into the blackness behind closed eyes, watching colors spin against the lens of her vision.

Suddenly, the end of the belt cracked across her skin, and she let out a muffled yelp, her hips driven off the bed in response to the pain. It faded, wildfire into a slow delicious burn, and she came down. Her cut legs, blood pooling between them, flashed before her eyes. She'd done that to herself. And she'd never gotten over the high. She'd never felt quite as alive.

Until now.

He was saying something, but she couldn't hear him until his belt came down again, harder this time, and a gasp fought its way out from between her lips. Then she heard his voice clearly.

"Roll onto your stomach, Lila," he said.

She quivered. Trembled. Her whole body shook, the bright stripe of pain fading into the unending ache in her core. She struggled to turn herself over, the bonds around her wrists tightening by degree. Then she lay flat on her stomach, her head up, gasping in shallow breaths around the gag in her mouth. A trickle of saliva began to run down her chin.

"There you go, baby girl." Cameron's voice followed her. "You don't know how beautiful you look right now."

Suddenly, she wanted to see. She wanted him to snap photographs behind her back. She wanted him to show her later. But she couldn't form the words, and even if she had, she wouldn't have been able to get them out.

"Show me your hands." His voice was husky. "Give me a demonstration signal."

She wriggled herself forward and rapped twice against the headboard with her knuckles, her hands squeezed into fists.

"Good girl." His hand fell suddenly on her shoulder and smoothed her hair into the center of her back before running down to her backside. She trembled beneath his touch, remembering the sting of his bare hand against her blue jeans. There were no blue jeans now.

She thought about how she might look, long legs stretched out coltish, drooling all over his expensive pillowcases.

He gave her ass a squeeze and a little slap, driving her back to the present.

"You still with me, baby girl?" came his voice low in her ears.

She jerked her head. Almost immediately, the warmth of his hand was replaced by the sting of his belt. She cried out, her hands tightening another degree about the cords that bound them. She could hear his hard breathing behind her. The belt fell again, before the pain of the first strike had faded, and she cried out again, rocking her hips to the side in a futile attempt to avoid another blow.

Three taps, she thought to herself, even as her mind lifted out of her body and flew toward euphoria. The line untethered, both parts of her refused to give the gesture. She wanted to feel it. She wanted to feel it all. When he strapped her again, she screamed, gritting her teeth, tears bursting from her eyes and running down her cheeks beneath the blindfold. She could still hear him behind her, his breath insistent. Was he using her? Was she using him? Were they using each other? Earlier, as he'd carried her into the apartment and laid her down here, she'd wanted to tell him that she loved him. She almost had. She'd barely been able to stop herself.

She floated. He strapped her again, three times in hard, rapid succession. Then, suddenly, she felt his hands on her hips, flipping her back over, the warmth of him straddling her. His hands fumbled with the catch of the gag behind her head. It slipped free from her mouth and something else filled the space, velvety hardness. She lavished her tongue over the head of his cock. Beyond the blindfold, she could sense movement, the rapid, frantic motion of his hand up and down his shaft. Suddenly, he grunted and thrust himself deeper into her mouth. His cock pulsed, and a moment later the warmth of his seed splashed against the back of her throat. She coughed and swallowed, her head hot and floaty.

He drew back, his breath coming hard. Tore the blindfold from her eyes. She blinked in the sudden dusky light.

"You should have stopped me," he said. He sounded angry. "Fuck!"

She shook her head, for a moment mute. Then words returned to her.

"I didn't want to. I wanted..." He was untying her hands, massaging her wrists where they had cut into her. She curled herself into his arms. Her chest heaved. "I wanted to make you happy."

"You sure made me happy." His mouth moved against her cheek. "You make me happy."

"What time is it?" she asked, trying to sit up.

He pulled her back down.

"It doesn't matter. Just stay with me. You need aftercare," he whispered. His lips found hers, and for a moment they kissed.

Then she broke free, breathless.

"No, I need to get home." She cast her eyes about the room for a clock. There was the digital one on the bedside table, but he was already turning it around. "Cameron, stop it! I need to go home. My mom will be up all night, and Robert will be angry."

Cameron raked a hand through his hair.

"Fine," he said.

He got up, his back and shoulders tense. Lila swung her legs over the edge of the bed and dropped down to the floor. She began to take off the lingerie set, but Cameron stopped her.

"It's a gift. Keep it. You can wear most of it under your clothes. And take the dress you picked out, too."

That was right. Friday. She turned and threw her arms around him.

"Thank you," she whispered. "I'm sorry. I would stay if I could."

He gave her a tired smile.

"Don't lie to me, Lila. You know you could stay. You're choosing not to. Fine."

"She's my mother, Cameron!" Lila pulled off the garter belt and laid it in the box that held the lavender dress. "I'm not going to have Robert chew her out over something like this! I told them I would be home by seven thirty, and look. I'm going to be late."

"It's not my fault." He moved into the hall. "You never communicated that to me."

"I didn't say it was your fault." Lila followed him, gathering up her canvases in the living room. "No one said it was your fault. Of course it's my fault, because I'm the one who knew. Now should I take the train home?"

"No. I said I'll drive you. So I'll drive you."

On their way out, he pulled the door sharply shut, and she jumped a little at the loud sound. Down in the alley, he took her around to the back to where his Mercedes was parked by the fence.

"Motherfucker," he muttered, stopping a couple yards away.

It took less than a second for Lila to register what had happened. The windshield was shattered. It looked as if someone had taken a golf club or a baseball bat to the glass.

"That's it. That kid is going away. I gave him two chances. Two solid chances," Cameron was saying under his breath. He whipped out his phone. "I'm calling you a cab. Then I'm calling the police."

"I can take the train, really -- "

"With a low-life like that hanging around this place? As if," he scoffed. "He'd probably follow you and jump you in the station. You're the real reason he's in hot water, not me. I stuck my neck out for you."

Lila fell silent. She lowered herself onto the low stone wall that ran along the side of the brownstone and looked at the beautiful white Mercedes and its shattered windshield, and found she wanted to cry. But she held her tears in.

Five minutes later, he walked her out to the street to meet the cab that had pulled up on the curb.

"Where am I picking you up on Friday?" he asked.

"The library. I'll change there, I guess," she mumbled.

"Fine. Four-thirty sharp. Don't be late. I mean it," he said.

He pulled open the cab door for her, and she watched him hand a hundred dollar bill to the cabbie through the open passenger side window. Then the cab pulled off the curb, and she was left turning to stare out the rear window at him until he faded from sight. She fixed her eyes stolidly on the headrest of the seat in front of her and willed herself not to cry. Not here. Not now. Not in front of this complete stranger. Her backside ached from where Cameron had beaten her.

Suddenly, something like revulsion rose in her throat, too strong for her to fight. Tears pricked her eyes. What kind of girl was she, that she'd let him do that to her and enjoyed it?

Her hands knotting in her lap, she dug her fingers into her thighs, scraping her nails through the thin material of her skirt against scars from long ago.

The cab pulled up outside Robert's house twenty minutes later, at seven fifty. She got out and went up the walk. As she came to the door, it swung open, and Robert reached out and caught her arm and pulled her inside. His face was florid and enraged, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"You said seven thirty," he hissed at her.

"Stop!" She tried to wrench herself free, but he held her fast. "You're hurting me!"

"What were you doing, huh? Date ran a little long? Did you suck his dick? Why anyone would want a skinny thing like you is beyond me." He let out a cruel laugh, releasing her. "Go up to your room."

"Robert!" Lila's mother appeared at the top of the stairs, looking down. Her face was alarmed. "What did you say to her?"

"It's nothing, Mom," Lila muttered, moving up the stairs. God forbid Robert choose to confiscate the box in her arms, buried beneath her canvases. "I was late. I deserved it."

"Honey -- "

Her mother tried to stop her, but Lila evaded her grasp and kicked her bedroom door shut on her back. Angry voices sounded off in the hall behind her, but she ignored them, dropping the load in her arms onto the floor. Then she fell back onto her bed and began to cry, curling herself into a little ball beneath her blankets. In one hand she clutched the locket around her neck, the last gift her father had ever given her. Finally, thankfully, sleep circled in around her, and she fell back into the arms of oblivion.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you'll hang on for the ride through the next few to finish out this book. As always, any feedback is appreciated, and I look forward to bringing you the rest of this story. Until next time. ❤️